


Burning Core

by KrysMcScience



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Because fuck 'em, Does ki actually work like that? probably not, Dubious consent (times TWO!), Fuck Or Die, Intense awkwardness (ALSO times two!), Ki suppression, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Miserable climates, Planet purging, Radditz and Nappa actually get mentioned in this one, Telepathic bond - kind of, They don't show up at all though, Violence and general wanton destruction (nothing overly graphic)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 00:21:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13915380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrysMcScience/pseuds/KrysMcScience
Summary: The list of things Vegeta hates is pretty long. Unfortunately, the two things at the very top - Saiyan ruts and Lord Freeza - wind up getting altogether too involved when a purge goes suddenly, terribly awry.





	Burning Core

**Author's Note:**

> I don't remember when or why I wrote this, but I was probably laughing at cliches and tropes, and decided to write my own. Because I make so much sense.
> 
> Vegeta's age isn't really specified, but it's probably around 16/17ish.
> 
> This could technically count towards tumblr's Freeza/Vegeta prompt of 'Destroying a Planet Together'...? I think I'm a bit late, though.

The planet's sun is too close – brilliant blue and swollen in the view screens – and the warriors already know what they'll find even before they land. The air is miserable, damp and sweltering from the moment they step outside, sweat soaking through their suits to drip from their armor, unable to dissipate for the persistent humidity. In the condition he's in, Vegeta just wants to raze everything on the planet's surface to dust and be done with it. He can't though, not with the orders he's been given, or with his too-powerful employer personally backing their invasion force.

  
For once, Vegeta feels as though it would be better to leave, more worth it to hole himself away in the depths of Freeza's most distant station, than to suffer through every fiery breath and burning motion of battle on this awful excuse for a world. But he can't do that, either – because Freeza won't allow it. The bastard needs every last one of his strongest and best for this fight, or he'll have to do it all himself.

  
Can't have that.

  
It's with intense frustration and no small amount of bitterness that Vegeta obeys, ripping through foe after wretched foe with none of his usual relish, unable to stop himself from gasping for air that isn't hot and heavy with moisture. There's not so much as a glimmer of relief to be had on this world, not even when night falls and four of the nine moons creep their way through the smoke-stained violet sky. He's still boiling in his uniform, skin itching and slick with sweat, in a way he knows is only going to get worse the longer he's there.

  
If Freeza notices his discomfort, he doesn't mention it, despite that they've been fighting in close proximity to each other the entire time. Nothing at all is said about Vegeta's shaking limbs, the strain to his every breath, and the grudgingly resigned look which haunts his face. Freeza covers for him, though, putting down assailants that might have tested the Saiyan too much in his current state, and in that, at least, Vegeta finds some minor reprieve. It's the only thing that has him sticking near to his lord, and fighting on despite how much he doesn't want to.

  
It's bad enough, being on this planet. It's worse having his instincts do a complete one-eighty from what he's used to. He should _want_ to fight, but he _doesn't_. Instead, there's an insistent call emanating from deep within, screaming for him to do something _else_ with the energy he has. Out of pure spiteful stubbornness, Vegeta keeps fighting, and rather than wonder where his two remaining subjects are, lest he entertain the thought of what they could do for him if either one of them were close at hand, he thinks only of the physical sensation of the here and now – of the battle that won't end until every last one of the planet's warriors are dead at his feet.

  
That thought firmly in mind, when one enemy falls, he moves on to the next, scowl set and frame tense to the point of pain, with Freeza flashing in and out of his view every so often. They're almost shoulder to shoulder when the groan of machinery surrounds them, the ground trembling with a sound surely pulled from deep within the planet's crust, and both of them instantly suspect that something isn't right. And when they hear the cheers starting to rise from the opposing force, see their own allies tumbling from the sky to their deaths and bright bursts of ki dissipating into thin air all around, they _know_.

  
The effortlessly familiar spark that flows through their bodies, channeling through already strong limbs to power them further...is _gone_.

  
An explosion rocks the air above, glass and metal raining down everywhere, and it's Freeza who acts first. Vegeta is shoved forward, told simply to _run_ , and he obeys without a second thought, eyes wide and heart pounding at how utterly _defenseless_ they are now.

  
They could die here.

  
_He_ could die here.

  
He scrambles for the attack balls, still nestled in their landing craters, Freeza skittering along behind him, and the lizard is halfway through shouting orders to the others when the first bolt whizzes by. Blood spurts from the forehead of an ally, now fallen, and Vegeta skirts around the body without looking back, ducking his head when he hears the spit of another fired bolt. The hairs on the back of his neck raise, the too-close tingle of plasma unnerving, and he swerves on instinct, this way and that – moving targets are harder targets, and the last thing he wants is to die off easy.

  
Another building detonates high above, setting a high-pitched ring to whine at the forefront of Vegeta's hearing, and he squints in discomfort, still gasping for breath. He chokes then, dust swirling around him, and almost stumbles before a firm hand grabs onto his upper arm, Freeza tugging him up and out of the way of falling debris. Eyes watering, the prince can't even nod his gratitude before he's shoved forward again, his lord ushering him on to their escape pods as the ground shakes under their feet. Nearby, he can hear the shouts and swears of their allies echoing through the smoky haze, and every so often, he also hears the telltale _thunk_ of a plasma bolt as it hits its mark. Again, he tries not to think about where his subordinates are, only letting himself hope that they don't manage to get themselves killed.

  
Seeing the line of the craters ahead, Vegeta starts to think he might make it out alive; worse for wear and caked with blood, sweat, and dirt, but alive nevertheless. He realizes the enemy's ploy before they even carry it out, though – after all, where else can the invaders go now but to their pods? – and throws himself back against Freeza's chest as another deafening round of bombs lights up the battlefield.

  
The blasts knock the two of them down, but they're alive and mostly unharmed, which is more than can be said for dozens of other warriors they'd seen trying to flee. Freeza tugs him back up again, red eyes wide and brimming with alarm. He's never been caught so off guard. He probably hasn't suffered so much as a scratch in years. Now, though, even wayward debris can harm him, already has blood beading up around a mottled bruise at his temple, and now Freeza is openly – _visibly_ – fearing for his life. Coughing amidst the ash, Vegeta points towards their last hope of getting out of this mess, just as another metal groan fills the air, a shadow blotting out the moonlight.

  
Vegeta's nearly knocked off his feet again, his lord half-tackling him to bring them both out of harm's way as the building's remnants crash down, right where they'd only just been standing, but he keeps upright long enough to break into a run. Freeza's right behind him, hissing out a vicious curse as rubble clatters all around them, and even through the smoke and the dark haze of night, they can see the towering silhouette looming up above, descending as if in slow motion with a terrible grating screech.

  
If both of them are to survive, there's only one feasible option, and well before Vegeta can so much as _consider_ risking a mad dash to the next crater, Freeza makes the necessary decision. He plants his foot solidly into the prince's back, sending him tumbling all the way down to the waiting pod, and slides down after him. Vegeta's picked up by the scruff of his neck and hauled into the ship in short order, Freeza far too close for comfort as his pale hands scramble over the controls.

  
The ball's hull shrieks in protest, tons upon tons of metal and stone bearing suddenly down on it, everything around the two warriors quaking with the spire's collapse. The only thing that keeps them whole and alive is engineering foresight – the attack balls are built to take massive amounts of damage from the outside. They have to be, or they'd never make it through a purge in one piece. Clinging to the seat, tense and wide-eyed and with his tail fur on end, Vegeta silently thanks every last one of the few techs he knows back on board the command station. If it hadn't been for their tireless work, the skyscraper's downfall would have ended much more simply. That is, with him being crushed into a bloody pancake, right alongside his boss.

  
His unspoken thanks won't do the two fighters any good when it comes to traveling together, though, not when the pods – and their stasis systems – are only meant for one. The two of them will have to spend the entire trip alert and aware of the other's presence, and while that might be all well and good for Freeza, Vegeta's not really going to be in any state to handle it for at least another week. He can't help but wonder if, after the first couple days, he'll even be able to control himself anymore, and the very thought of it makes his stomach clench unpleasantly, nervousness shuddering through him.

  
This might still end up killing him.

  
The scenario takes an abrupt turn when the ball's hatch fails to close, the control panel spitting out sparks as it cycles through several malfunctions at once. Freeza spits a choice phrase and slams his fist against the keys, as though that will help any, before going still without warning, entire frame tight with nerves as he realizes the same thing as Vegeta.

  
It's deathly quiet now – and that's far too quiet for either of them to be comfortable with.

  
Despite his unease, Vegeta keeps his mouth shut when Freeza breaches his personal space, the lizard pressing back into their shared seat with an alarmed look on his face. There's a clatter of rock from somewhere, as though tossed onto the mountain of rubble directly over their heads, and the two can hear the distinct murmur of anxious voices. The trapped fighters exchange a hesitant glance. Vegeta's expression turns questioning, and Freeza shakes his head slightly after a moment of consideration, far too paranoid by now to take any risks.

  
His decision is a good one. Hardly a minute later, a louder voice rings out, and whatever is said isn't in any language they're familiar with.

  
Vegeta fully expects another assault to do them in then, braces himself for it, and he's surprised when it doesn't come. The voices fade, the debris settles, and all they can hear after that is their own breathing, and the occasional quiet shot of a plasma rifle. _The enemy doesn't realize they survived._ Next to him, Freeza sighs and relaxes a little, leaning forward to wipe the thin line of sweat from his forehead, the look on his face halfway between weary and disgusted. “Is your scouter working?” His voice is low, and tight with irritation; he'd seen no need to wear his own for this battle, and is clearly regretting it now.

  
Slumping back in the seat, worn out and uncomfortably warm from head to foot, Vegeta shakes his head. “Shorted out when the ki-dampeners came on.” Freeza curses again, under his breath this time, and resumes fiddling with the control panel. It doesn't take long before he gives it up as useless, growling quietly to himself in his native tongue. He doesn't say that nothing in the pod is working. It's obvious enough in how he's reacting.

  
When the overlord vacates the seat to gauge the full extent of their situation, Vegeta can't help but feel relieved, sitting there stewing in quiet frustration over his own private dilemma. He wants to put the blame on someone, or something, but there's so many things and people at fault – too many, really – that he's not even sure where to start.

  
Unfortunate timing. Terrible climates. Overly prepared natives. Freeza's obsessive need to expand his empire. Vegeta being turned over to the Planet Trade by his so-called 'father'.

  
The blame is stretched out too thin between everything, and doesn't make Vegeta feel even the slightest bit vindicated. It doesn't help, either, that what he mostly blames right now is his own wretchedly shitty biology.

  
“Why does it have to be so gods-damned _hot_?” he grumbles aloud, throwing an arm over his eyes, and hating how just the motion itself _squelches_. He doesn't get an answer, not that he'd expected to, as Freeza has long since ventured into the darkness beyond the attack ball's open hatch. How there's any room to maneuver, Vegeta can't guess at, and he's not so sure he cares. Either way, he's going to be spending an indeterminable amount of time with his employer in a far-too-enclosed space.

  
The prince is halfway through a canteen of water when Freeza returns, leaning down to frown in at him, tail weaving in impatience. Despite the heat that's left him soaked in sweat and bordering on dehydration, Vegeta obligingly lowers his drink to hear him out. “We're trapped,” Freeza tells him, visibly annoyed, and he motions for the Saiyan to follow as he steps back. Once they're both out of the pod, and into the cramped cavity beyond, he leads Vegeta the few steps they can make to point upward. “And _that's_ our only way out.” A small hole, the hazy sky visible beyond, is all the prince can see, and it's as much of a disappointment as he'd expected. It's not big enough for either of them to fit through, and lets in only just enough moonlight for Vegeta to get a better idea of what had happened.

  
The attack ball's crater had played a larger role in their survival than he'd expected it would, curbing some of the force of the spire's fall. A weaker part of the building had collapsed inward, and now lay at an angle over their heads, its weight fully supported between the crater's curved ground, their now-damaged vessel, and what remains of the skyscraper, mostly unseen beyond the dirt and rubble piled up around them. The hole Freeza found is at the highest available point, where part of the spire had crumbled apart under the pressure, but it's not easily accessible. Vegeta has a feeling the whole set-up would fall apart if they even tried to climb up to it, let alone widen it enough to crawl through.

  
He glances to Freeza uncertainly, then back up at the hole, and in standard form, states precisely what he thinks of it. “It's too high up, and too small to get through. It'll probably collapse if we-”

  
“I _know_ that,” Freeza snaps at him, meaning there's something about it that Vegeta's missing. He gets it when the tyrant nudges him, a bit more roughly than necessary, a little to the left.

  
He can see one of the planet's _moons_ through it.

  
“How much time before it's full?” Vegeta asks.

  
“Three days.” Freeza gestures back towards their pod, adding on, “We have enough rations to last twice that, if you're careful.” If _Vegeta_ is careful. He can't even stop himself from frowning at that, tired and disgruntled, but if Freeza sees it, it doesn't seem to matter. “No doubt we'll be stuck here for the full three days, with the Meudrotti on high alert as they are.”

  
Vegeta nods his understanding; the enemy isn't going to shut off the ki-dampeners any time soon, and will no doubt open fire on any Planet Trade ships intending to search for their missing lord. Briefly, he considers digging a way out, but a moment more of thought has him recognizing the risk in that, especially when Freeza doesn't bother suggesting it, either. There's too much potential for a cave-in, or being spotted before they can make a proper escape. “So we sit and wait until then,” he guesses, unenthusiastic.

  
“Unless you have any other ideas,” Freeza drawls back, equally displeased.

  
The unexpected bit of snark almost has Vegeta responding automatically with his own, some bit about how they should have reduced the planet to dust the moment they’d arrived, but he bites it back. Freeza isn't one of his peers, let alone Saiyan, so there's little doubt that he wouldn't entirely appreciate such a comment, even if he agreed with it. The lizard puts too much stock into professional business rather than simple fun, Vegeta thinks, and not for the first time. In the end, he just shrugs, noncommittal, and tries not to glower when Freeza only snorts in mild disdain and heads back for the pod.

  
He can't hold back the frustrated glare, though, when a few items are pointedly tossed out for him. It very clearly tells him where Freeza expects him to stay for the duration of their three-day surprise camping trip. Too tired and hot to argue, though, Vegeta just shuffles over to reclaim his canteen, downing the rest of its contents in a single go that isn't _nearly_ as refreshing as he'd like. Once he's finished, he sheds the heaviest part of his armor, having no use for it now – it's only driving his body temperature up higher than it needs to be. Having it off helps, a little, and leaning back against the curved wall of dirt and stone helps even more, seeping away some of his heat to offer a meager reprieve. He's even able to sleep for a while.

  
Only to be convinced that he's on fire when he finally wakes up.

  
The planet's awful star has risen again, turning their hiding place into a veritable furnace, and it has Vegeta panting for air, tugging off his gloves and boots before struggling to squirm out of his bodysuit next. He feels trapped in it, the fabric sweat-soaked and sticking to him like a second skin, and it doesn't take long before the struggle starts to feel like more trouble than its worth, forcing the prince to give up with a despondent whine and flop out on the ground. He lays there, damp and pathetic, complaining wordlessly to himself at how unfair and horrible everything is.

  
The Saiyan's feeble groans have Freeza leaning over him soon enough, scowling in annoyance before his expression unexpectedly shifts to one of concern, but Vegeta is only vaguely aware of it. He can hardly register anything beyond the agonizing burn racing through his veins. A pitiful wheeze escapes him, eyes closing in bliss as something slightly chilled rests over his forehead, and past the white noise filling his ears – the frantic beat of his heart urging him to do what needs to be done – he can hear his overlord speaking to him. “You have a fever.”

  
“No shit,” Vegeta croaks back, unable to help himself.

  
There's a long moment of silence, but it feels more awkward than anything else, Freeza apparently having no issue with the Saiyan's blunt remark over the _other_ problem now rearing its ugly head. “You failed to tell me your cycle had started,” the tyrant points out, his discomfort obvious.

  
It's all Vegeta can do to not laugh in derision. He's not even sure if he could manage it, not when he's already gasping for desperately needed breath. “Yeah, cuz I _really_ want you knowing all the gritty details about my 'inferior' body,” he replies, and just that on its own leaves him winded and wheezing again, every lungful of air hot and sticky in a way that almost makes him want to cry in frustration.

  
Why'd they have to get stuck on such a _miserable_ planet for his first rut?!

  
For another long, unpleasant moment, Freeza doesn't say anything, only keeping the blessedly cool palm of his hand against the Saiyan's forehead. “With the climate here, and the condition you're in...you're not going to be able to survive for three full days,” he says finally. He doesn't sound pleased by it, voice low and soft, like he doesn't want to admit it...or like he doesn't want Vegeta to know.

  
Vegeta already knows. Nothing even needed to be said. It's only the second day of his cycle, and while he'd resolved to ignore it until it was all over, the planet they're on has been thoroughly testing that resolve. Bad enough that he'd considered seeking out his subordinates, just for some measure of relief, but now? Now he's with Freeza, someone who's not even Saiyan, and he really _is_ going to die here. If just the second day has him feeling as though he's been locked in an oven, he's certain that even just a day more will bring him straight to his funeral pyre. Body shaking, Vegeta's throat is dry from thirst and tight with the fear of impending death, and he hardly recognizes his own voice. “There has to be _something_ we can do. Something to cool me off-”

  
“It won't do enough,” Freeza tells him, and somehow it cuts to the core – the words themselves, and the quietly concerned way they'd been spoken. “We don't have the supplies for it. Unless you can stop your cycle, your brain will end up cooking in your skull before tomorrow's end.”

  
Unbidden, what little moisture Vegeta has left in him beads up in the corners of his eyes. “...I can't,” he whimpers, hating himself for his weakness, yet all the same wanting to wallow in it. He doesn't want to die here, outwitted by the enemy and stripped of his power, and he wants even less to go out broiling alive, all thanks to his own accursed biology. Saiyans either die in battle or in childbirth, and anything less than that...

  
For a Saiyan prince, the heir to the throne, to die such a shameful, pathetic death...

  
Freeza's hand doesn't move from where he'd rested it, no more than a vague comfort now that his skin has grown warmer, unable to resist the Saiyan's overwhelming heat. Even so, as Vegeta trembles in misery, the tyrant looks away obligingly, pretending he doesn't hear the bitten-off sounds of his subordinate trying to choke down tears. Freeza waits until Vegeta quiets completely before he speaks again, awkward and uncomfortable. “So you can't...end it...without a partner.”

  
“...Right.”

  
“I...expect the proper pheromones would...fix the problem, then,” he mumbles, and it has Vegeta cringing, more at the palpable uncertainty, so uncharacteristic of Freeza, than the actual subject matter itself.

  
“S...sort of. I guess.” It's close enough to being right, at least, but Vegeta can't find it in him to explain any further. All he wants is for his body to stop burning, to get some air into his chest, and to feel something other than the sweat slicking his skin. Even as he thinks it, though, his mind conjures up images of _other_ things he might like to feel on his skin right now – chilled hands, stripping away his bodysuit, smoothing over him to assuage the fire consuming him, filling him with a _different_ kind of fire – and Freeza recoils from him at the same time he recoils from his own thoughts, mortified.

  
Shaking the images away, and hating how much warmer he feels despite his disgust for them, Vegeta peers up at his lord with hazy bitterness, wishing he had more to offer than questions and guesses about the prince's condition. He's not sure what to make of the other man's wide eyes and the violet tint to his cheeks, or the fact that Freeza is quick to look away before their eyes even meet, but he doesn't dwell on it for long. His own suffering far outweighs any mild, passing curiosity. “...I need to get out of here,” Freeza mutters, staring down at his own hand – the one he'd rested on Vegeta's forehead – as though he's not sure what to make of it anymore. “...And I need you alive in order to do so.”

  
It doesn't matter, though. Not now, at least, with the prince roasting in his own skin. He'll be dead long before the third night ever comes. With that disheartening thought looming over him, Vegeta drags in one long, heated breath, the humid air seeming to cling to his ribs, and sighs it back out, heavy and resigned. “Sorry to disappoint you,” he mutters back, turning away so all he can see is dirt and metal debris. “If it makes you feel any better, I'll put in a good word for you when I'm burning in _hell_.”

  
Almost as if in spite of himself, Freeza manages a tentative chuckle at that, but he quiets quickly, and Vegeta tries not to feel too grateful when his sweat-soaked bangs are swept aside, burning forehead soothed once again by the tyrant's other hand. “Maybe,” Freeza starts, before he pauses uncertainly. It takes him clearing his throat and hesitating again, like he doesn't know how to put his thoughts to words, before he says anything else. “Maybe there _is_ something we can do...”

  
“Unless you've got a _telepath_ locked up somewhere nearby, I _really_ doubt it,” Vegeta snaps, less angrily than he really wants to, but he winds up regretting it regardless. His lungs ache with the effort, screaming in protest at the wet cough that follows his words, and it isn't helped when he chokes at an unexpected – but entirely _familiar_ – presence in his mind.

  
_'Would this suffice?'_

  
The mental connection, somehow, blessedly, eases some of Vegeta's agony, the burn receding somewhat to give him some measure of lucidity, and he turns back to Freeza to gape at him. “You're...?” He can't even finish the question, unwilling to believe it's possible. Surely, even with how reliably shitty his luck is, surely his life couldn't give him such a simple, stupid, and utterly _disturbing_ solution like this. His way out of this, his one ticket to staying alive, can not be as cut and dry as having _sex_ with his _boss_.

  
But then Freeza responds, directly into the tenuous connection, and Vegeta gives up questioning anything. _'Psychic? Essentially, yes. I admit, I don't use the ability much. And thanks to our current... **situation**...this is about all I can manage with it now.’_

  
Meaning the power of his mind is no different from that of his body – without ki to back it up with unparalleled strength, he’s not really all that special.

  
It clearly annoys him, something Vegeta would know even if he couldn’t feel it directly, and it leaves them both with an odd moment of understanding, their shared dilemma allowing for some measure of sympathy. It has Freeza hesitating, embarrassment hidden visibly but still palpable now that their minds are open to each other, which effectively serves to double Vegeta’s own discomfort when the overlord tries to act professional, like he's only discussing the weather. _'You seem to be recovering somewhat. Is this really all you need? A telepathic link with a partner?'_

  
Mortified, and unable to look directly at Freeza, Vegeta covers his eyes with an arm, deliberating on how to answer. He considers speaking it aloud, but the looming potential of death on the horizon has him caving enough to send back a halting explanation, one that has him frustrated in how much it helps to ease some of the fire in his veins. _‘It’s not...that simple. The connection helps, sure, but...I’ll need more than that. Maintaining it during...certain acts...would end the cycle. Being linked while...reaching...’_ Groaning in dismay, Vegeta slides his hands over his face, cheeks burning, before he glares up at Freeza and exclaims, “It doesn’t matter, anyway! You can’t honestly tell me you’d consent to that! I’m ‘ _primitive_ ’, remember?!” Mocking the tyrant’s own words as he is, Vegeta can’t even stop himself from sounding accusing, spite fueling his final retort. “To you, I’m just a _fucking monkey_!”

  
His overlord stares down at him, expression void and unblinking, before he replies, simple as can be, “If you die, I die. _Consent_ isn't really an issue here.”

  
Vegeta has nothing to say to that. He only lays there, wide-eyed and shallow-breathed, unable to argue as Freeza – Lord Freeza, ruler of the Planet Trade, his hated employer, and the one who'd subjugated his entire race – delicately peels away the soaked fabric separating his bare skin from the humid air, exposing him in simultaneously the best and worst possible ways.

  
This will _save_ him – _both_ of them.

  
_'I don't...want to do this with you...'_ Vegeta sends, almost unbidden, staring up at the metal over their heads in misery.

  
Freeza doesn't look at him either as he sheds his own armor, the planet's moist heat not pressing enough for him to have needed it off earlier, but he responds in kind, just as evenly as before, _'I don't want to, either. But we don't have any other choice.'_ Vegeta isn't sure if it's the words that have him shaking, or the cool hands sliding up his thighs, taking hold of the hem of his briefs to slide them down, detached and methodical as a medic.

  
No...not a medic.

  
A soldier.

  
Gritting his teeth, Vegeta turns his face away as his legs are parted, his lord's slim hips easing in between, and he hates that it has him hard. Despite how much he hates the tyrant, and how he should only feel disgust for what's happening, lust still manages to bubble up with every last touch. Out of sheer malice, he tries to struggle, thinking that maybe – just _maybe_ – he's stronger than Freeza now that they've both been left without their ki, and that maybe he could be the one in charge, the one dominating and calling the shots. Surely, it would be far less shameful in the end, much less of a hit to his pride. His attempt to flip them over only ends with Freeza pinning his wrists to the ground, though, unmoved by his effort, and not at all fazed when he continues to squirm in refusal.

  
It doesn't take long before Vegeta gives in, unable to do anything else in the face of the hellfire threatening to consume him, already thoroughly fed up with the constant need for air, the sandpaper thirst continually scraping the back of his throat, and the ever-present sweat still beading up over his skin. More than anything, though, he's sick of the _craving_ – the needy itch all along his skin which begs for the touch of another, and for the release of the tightly coiled tension deep within him.

  
When Vegeta's gaze turns hollow, and his entire body goes slack save for his prominent erection, Freeza is less than impressed. Even then, with his subordinate laid out bare and spread beneath him, every last gasp dry and tremulous, he still has to rub salt in the wound. _'You're wasting your energy,'_ he sends into Vegeta's mind, and with the smugness emanating through their meager connection, he doesn't even need to smirk. He does it anyway, though, tail hooking around a full canteen lying just out of arm's reach to bring it over, infuriatingly imperious as he twists it open to offer out to the prince. _'Drink up,'_ Freeza commands, and he waits until Vegeta has grudgingly obeyed and is mid-way through a large gulp before he adds on, sly as can be, _'You're going to need it.'_

  
Vegeta chokes instantly, water spewing out around the canteen to wet more than half his face, doing nothing to assuage the burn in his cheeks. Freeza laughs at him for it, taking the drink back to close and toss it aside, control of the situation fully asserted. And after that particular embarrassment, all Vegeta can bring himself to do is lay there, limp and trembling and not at all mentally prepared for what's about to happen.

  
He knows that Freeza is only pretending he's not bothered by any of this, can feel the thinly veiled traces of uncertainty – _shyness_ , even – as he lifts the prince's hips up, rocks against him in stiff, faltering motions. Vegeta can't see it as foreplay. Not by any sense of the word. There isn't so much as a hint of desire, let alone interest for that matter, to be found on the other end of the connection. He doesn't spark even the slightest bit of arousal in his lord, and as relieving as that is on an objective level, at the moment the Saiyan can only find it terribly inconvenient.

  
If they want this to work, so they can get out alive, they _both_ need to take part in it.

  
Not even sure if it will accomplish anything, Vegeta focuses on his own lust, roiling just beneath his skin, and sends an echo of it Freeza's way. The overlord twitches, startled, his cheeks taking on the same subtle flush of violet they had earlier, and it takes him a moment before he catches on to the prince's meaning – _this isn't working_. A little sigh sweeps out of him, resigned and only mildly irritated, and Vegeta can sense it as the other man obligingly feels out what must be a foreign sensation to him. Freeza is bordering on cautious as he mentally examines what he's been given, puzzling over it with the mildest twist of bemusement to his face, and when the Saiyan prince beneath him gingerly rocks back against him, his expression flits straight to surprise when he abruptly _gets it_.

  
Sharp gaze snapping down to an area Vegeta's not so sure he could stomach getting a glimpse of, Freeza kneels there in silent calculation, cold hands tight and tense around the Saiyan's hips. _'What now?'_ Vegeta sends to him, openly exasperated, and he seizes up in discomfort when his lord leans over him fully, hands braced on either side of his head and vivid red eyes searing into his own.

  
_'Focus on what you did before. And keep sending it,'_ Freeza orders, sliding against him in a way that sends conflicting shivers up his spine. Whatever the feeling is, it ends up settling low in Vegeta's belly, molten hot and urging him for more, so the prince obeys the command without protest, face flushed and fingers digging into the dirt. The next echo he sends has a low, wisping moan slipping from Freeza's lips, the tyrant's eyes sliding shut as his focus clings to it, and somehow it has Vegeta burning with need, thighs spreading just a bit more to accommodate.

  
As much as the gesture had been meant as an invitation, he still hadn't expected for Freeza to take it. A slight adjustment of position is all his lord needs before, in one quick and jerking motion, he spears Vegeta to the hilt. There's no preparation, no moment for the prince to collect himself first, only the dry burn of invasion, and the intense sensation of being filled. It takes everything Vegeta has to keep himself from screaming. Instead, he bites the sound back to little more than an anguished gurgle in the back of his throat, and as Freeza starts to move, he tries to reason with himself that it's not the worst pain he's ever had to endure.

  
At least with _this_ pain, the wretched desire clouding his mind is encouraging it, and trying to twist it into something halfway tolerable.

  
One of Freeza's hands ends up at his hip again, holding onto him with enough force to where Vegeta is certain he'll find bruises there later, and the cold breath whispering against his ear has him shivering. Whatever it is that's being pounded away inside of him now, it's only just compatible enough to where his mind and body don't reject it as feeling outright wrong. Either way, he's certain that it has him bleeding, that he'd been ripped open the moment Freeza forced his way in, and for one fearful moment he's not sure if their vague compatibility will end up doing him any good.

  
Still, despite everything, the longer Vegeta lays there, bearing it all with only a mild grimace, the more tolerable it gets. He can feel lust that isn't his own now, rising up from the opposite side of their mental link, his lord moaning softly every so often, unable to help himself. It isn't long before there's a foreign slickness where Vegeta is being impaled, easing the unpleasant burn to make way for a far better one, the prince having to bite down on his lower lip when Freeza unwittingly finds a sensitive spot within him.

  
It doesn't stop him from groaning aloud, mouth dropping open as the tyrant focuses his efforts on that one little weakness, having caught the spike in Vegeta's need the moment he found it. Torn halfway between desire and disbelief, Freeza lets out a breathy laugh when the Saiyan writhes under him, hands scrambling for purchase in the dirt. Through the maintained link, stronger now that the initial discomfort has passed, Vegeta senses the urge to dominate the moment it flits into his lord's mind, and he isn't surprised when Freeza uses one hand to pin his wrists firmly over his head. He's more surprised that it only serves to send an electric jolt straight down to his groin, back arcing up in appreciation with every ensuing thrust, urging the other man to keep at it.

  
“Do you _like_ that?” Freeza whispers into his ear, tone just shy of mocking, and Vegeta flushes bright red at the unabashed moan it pulls from him, his legs wrapping around the tyrant's hips seemingly of their own accord. His skin is on fire, he's sure of it, but he hardly cares, not when he's being so thoroughly filled and spread, the incessant need for it finally being seen to...and there's an echo of appreciation emanating from the bond's other end as an added bonus. As much as he hadn't expected to, Freeza is definitely enjoying himself by this point, a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he plows into his now openly willing conquest, eyes glinting with approval as he watches Vegeta squirm in mindless rapture.

  
He seems to like it best when the Saiyan twists against his grip, for he grins sharply whenever it happens, and plunges in deeper, harder, in a way that has Vegeta groaning raggedly each time. The prince even starts to do it on purpose, tugging on Freeza's hold just so he can have the gratification of another rough thrust, reveling in how each one blurs the line between pleasure and pain. His tail, previously tucked in defensively close against him, loosens from his waist at some point, curling around Freeza's thigh and trembling along with the rest of him. By the time the two of them are chest to chest, clinging to one another without thought as they gasp and moan, Vegeta's tail is tightly entwined with his lord's, fluffed out from root to tip in delight and showing no signs of letting go.

  
With the mental link still bridged between them, and the undercurrent of the other's building desire coursing amidst their own, it doesn't take long before Freeza stills over the prince, eyes closed and lips parted just so as he rides out the brilliant rush of climax. The low groan that escapes him turns into a sly chuckle halfway through, and he sends an echo of the sensation straight to Vegeta, rocking into him just enough to bring the Saiyan to a noisy finish.

  
It's almost alarming, how quickly the telepathic connection snaps after that, Vegeta going limp with relief as he settles into the afterglow, the heat of his cycle already beginning to dissipate. Without the bond between their minds, though, Freeza is quick to jerk away, visibly unsettled and reaching for the discarded canteen to rinse himself off. Eyes half-lidded, Vegeta watches him, not really sure how he should feel beyond exhausted and distantly satisfied, but he manages a smirk. “Not bad for my first time,” he decides, only half-truthful, and he relishes the disgust that twists his lord's face, and how the lizard's heavy tail cringes away from his own – like the two hadn't been just as closely entangled as their owners but a few moments prior. Even with how tired he is, voice as worn out as the rest of him, Vegeta can't help but tease, adding on, “How 'bout you?”

  
“We are _not_ discussing it,” Freeza snaps, tugging his armor back on as quickly as he can. “Not now, not _ever_. If I hear so much as another _word_ about it after this-”

  
“You could've just said it was bad,” Vegeta drawls, closing his eyes. “It's not like you've never been an asshole before.”

  
The flustered stuttering from the lizard is equally pleasing, but by then, Vegeta is far too wiped out to dwell on it much further. He just grins lazily when Freeza, very unsubtly, throws his still-damp bodysuit over his exposed crotch and storms back to the pod, no doubt to fume silently to himself for the remainder of their time there.

  
Vaguely, Vegeta thinks that he probably won't be half as at peace with what had happened once he's slept on it for a while. He also thinks that it's probably a miracle that they'd gone unheard, right before the utter contentment of being freed from the clutches of his rut has him falling soundly asleep.

  
As it turns out, Vegeta had been right in thinking that, later on, he wouldn't be quite as at ease with the tryst he'd had with his lord. Even just _seeing_ Freeza is an intensely awkward experience, as it unwittingly brings to his mind how the tyrant had looked while kneeling over him, bringing tears of pleasure to his eyes with each fluid thrust of his hips. It seems that Freeza feels much the same way, as he can't quite bring himself to meet Vegeta's gaze, and it has him hesitating and clearing his throat every so often when they have to speak, something he's never done in the Saiyan's presence before their unexpected romp.

  
With neither of them able to face the other, let alone strike up a conversation, the remaining days leading up to their escape pass by agonizingly slow. Their time is spent together, but alone, sitting silently in the wet warmth of a planet soon to be under new management, from the very moment Vegeta lays eyes on the full moon.

  
And by the end of the third day, with Vegeta transforming to free them from their prison, all it takes to restore their ki is the brute strength of the Oozaru, led and utilized to its fullest extent by Freeza's natural cunning. The ki-dampeners in the planet's core are destroyed, and the Meudrotti conquered, and one simple communique later, a Planet Trade vessel is there to rescue prince and lord alike, the two warriors returning victorious to Freeza's command station.

  
None of the other warriors have any idea of what else might have transpired between their lord and the Saiyan prince, and neither Vegeta nor Freeza will ever admit to it. Though they both know that the memory of it might haunt them at times, drifting at the edge of thought or appearing to them in some wayward dream, still the two of them push what had happened into the very backs of their minds, never to be spoken of again.

  
As best as they could, they had already resolved to forget about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Because ignoring problems makes them go away, right? Ha! That's what I tried to do with the idea for this story, and we can all see how well THAT worked out.
> 
> Oh, what's that? Why didn't Vegeta just crush Freeza while he was transformed, you ask? Obviously because he wants to beat the shit out of Freeza when they're both at their best. SAIYANS, am I right? So dumb. I mean, uh. PROUD. Yeah. That's what I meant.


End file.
